


The Memory Within

by angelus2hot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, Community: nekid_spike, Fluff, Gen, Memories, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelus2hot/pseuds/angelus2hot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Dean celebrate Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Memory Within

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** The Memory Within  
>  **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Characters/Pairing:** John Winchester, Dean Winchester  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Word Count:** 1,020  
>  **Summary:** John and Dean celebrate Christmas.  
>  **A/N:** written for the prompt 'christmas cracker' for Festive Prompt Cards at nekid_spike

Dean plopped the last bite of turkey into his mouth and looked down at the brightly wrapped tube shaped gift his dad had sat down next to his plate. As soon as he had finished eating he glanced over at his dad. “What’s this?”

“It’s a Christmas Cracker.” John’s tone was matter of fact as he raised the plastic cup to his lips and took a drink. “Apparently in this town they’re something of a requirement with the holidays and I thought since it is Christmas...” John shrugged and let his voice trail off. He was aware this could be considered almost completely out of character for him but damn it there was nothing wrong with joining in the local traditions every once in awhile. Besides they’d had precious little to smile about since Sammy had... John shook his head to dispel the thought. Today was Christmas, he was going to focus on having a nice dinner with Dean and relaxing for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long. Dean deserved it. They both did.

With his eyes wide with confusion Dean stared at his father. “Okay, what am I supposed to do with it?”

“That’s simple. We each hold the cracker in our right hands,” He paused and waited for Dean to follow his instructions. “I asked the waitress when I picked up the order.” John volunteered before Dean could ask. “Then we grab the loose end with our left hands and pull.”

They each gave a sharp tug and with a little bang the contents spilled out and scattered across the small round table. With an almost childlike delight Dean riffled through the contents before he pulled out the two brightly colored paper hats and handed one to his father.

“Come on, Dad. Put it on.” Dean encouraged as he placed the bright yellow king’s crown on top of his own head.

John shook his head vehemently. “Forget it, Dean. There is no way I’m wearing this.” He waved around a purple paper crown for emphasis as he spoke.

“If we’re following the tradition by opening the cracker then we should follow all of it.” Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the look on John’s face. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out his dad was less than pleased with the thought.

There was something about the look on Dean’s face or maybe it was the way he said it either way John, with a long-suffering sigh gave in and put the violet purple crown on his head. “I better not see any camera flash.” He muttered darkly as he positioned the crown. John glared at Dean. John wasn’t stupid he knew going for the camera was the first thing Dean would want to do. “I mean it, son.”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” He leaned sideways and began to fish through his father’s bag. “No pictures. I got it.” Dean was having a hard time trying to keep from laughing out loud. His father in a purple crown was priceless. A real Kodak moment and he knew his mother’s instant Polaroid camera was buried inside his Dad’s duffel bag somewhere. If only he could reach it. Dean leaned further over until he could wrap his hand around the camera.

And with a huge grin on his face flashes of light began to brighten the room as picture after picture shot out of the camera.

“Dean!” There was no way in hell he wanted proof of what he had done to get back to anyone he knew or even those he didn’t. He was positive he looked absolutely ridiculous.

Dean quickly dropped the camera on an empty chair and held up his hands in mock innocence. “Would you believe me if I said it was lightning?”

John bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. He cleared his throat and shot Dean a mock glare. “Those had better not see the light of day, Son.”

With laughter in his voice, Dean nodded his head and whispered, “Yes, sir.” And without another word they reached for their pieces of pie sitting on the table by their empty plates. 

 

 

Years later, in the bunker they called home Dean stood at his dresser and stared at the pictures he had taken so long ago. He’d thought he’d lost them years ago but he had found them in one of his Dad’s hiding places. He couldn’t believe his dad had kept them. He had been sure John would have burned the pictures or at the very least thrown them away but John had locked them away inside a small wooden chest.

A sad smile curved his lips as he thumbed through the stack. Each picture was like a living memory of that Christmas. His Dad in a purple paper crown was a sight to behold one he would be forever grateful he had witnessed in person. But it was the last picture in the stack that gave him pause, that caused his heart to tighten and his throat to constrict. It was his Dad and him, still in their crowns laughing as they held the camera at arms link to take the picture and scrawled across the bottom in his dad’s sprawling handwriting were the words _Me and my son, having a wonderful Christmas._

Dean closed his eyes and let the pain wash over him. It always amazed him how much he still missed his Dad.

“What are you doing?” 

He quickly opened his eyes, slipped the pictures back inside of his drawer and slid it closed before turning to face his brother. “Nothing.”

Sam couldn’t help but noticed the tightness around Dean’s mouth, the brightness in his eyes and he was positive that whatever he had been doing it wasn’t just nothing. But he also knew his brother didn’t want to talk about it. So he did the next best thing. “You want a beer?”

Dean nodded his head emphatically. “God, yes.” With one last glance at his dresser and the memories it held within he followed Sam out of the room.


End file.
